Chapter Text
Din Djarin stood slack and empty as he watched the hollow metal doors of the bridge close in front of him. The bridge of Moff Gideon's hijacked imperial star cruiser. The sealed room felt like a vacuum. As if all of the oxygen had been sucked from the space, rendering Din unable to manage a breath. He felt shrivelled and brittle, his bones aching under the weight of reality, and the layers of beskar. Behind him may well have been open to the cold indifference of space, because he felt so vastly alone in those moments. Suffocating in his shoes. He was stunned by the waves of emotion that wash over him. As if handing off that small green child was handing off a piece of himself. It all happened so fast. The kidnapping, their brief reunion, and then the jedi. His arms instinctually felt empty, as the phantom weight he grew so accustomed to carrying dissipated. It all happened so fast, he thought to himself again.
After what felt like hours, his torrid breaths steadied, and his eyes stopped stinging. His knuckles twitched at his side as his body seemed to become his own again. Muscles creaking and grip loosening on the steel in his grasp. Din mustered all of his strength to bring his helmet to his head, and slide it unceremoniously back on. It was heavier than it had ever been, and seemed to carry a sickening finality.
Then there was a firm hand on his shoulder, resting with a force felt through his armor. He knew the gesture to be from Cara, knowing she was the only one in the room who would care enough to offer her sympathy. That was when he felt the first tear fall, and the damp saltiness stole his vision and soaked his helmet in vulnerable secrecy. He felt horrible. But he straightened anyway, and ever so slowly turned toward the bridge. His moment was over, and time continued to move. His loss was far from the harshest faced in the room, and he reminded himself of this as he faced the others behind him. Their expressions were stoic, all for Bo-Katan. Whose blatant harshness was palpable from all those feet away. The rest shared flashes of pity and indifference. Din turned his head to Cara, who remained at his side. She gave him a sympathetic look, and said quietly and reassuringly,
“He’ll be okay. You did what was best for him.” It was a kind sentiment, but it didn't make him feel any better. He nodded anyway.
Across the room, a monitor is illuminated with movement from the ship’s docking bay. The tail end of an x-wing starfighter disappears from view as it takes off. Din once again notes the crushing silence in the room, however this time it feels less in his head. Finally, someone clears their throat.
“So, what now?” Cara states simply, shifting the focus from the screen.
“Set a course to Mandalore.” Bo-Katan instructs Koska, before turning her gaze toward the floor, where Moff Gideon laid in a crumpled pile. “I’m taking this kriffing skanah to the bridge.”
Bo-Katan kicks Moff Gideon’s lifeless form to see if he’d stir, before heaving him over her shoulder and starting towards the door. Cara shoots Din a quick look before deciding to assist Bo-Katan, and heading off after her. Din, not having been tasked with anything, finds himself wandering into a seat in the corner and staying there. Content to rest his head on the back of the chair and stare straight at the ceiling in silence. Maybe when he rises, his head will feel less heavy. Emotion and exhaustion swarm him behind lidded, masked eyes. And he longs for a day when he felt much less.
***
Steps reverberate like thunder on the metal floor of the ship. Armor creaks and clanks while fabric rustles, and hushed voices stir Din’s tired mind. He doesn’t think he’d slept since before the child was taken, and it doesn’t seem he will get to for a little while longer. He tilts his sluggish head toward the others, peering at them through his toned visor with bleary eyes. Bo-Katan and Koska stand at the main control panel. The mandalorian women discussing something with stern inflection. They seem to stop as they notice him rouse. Fennec and Cara are seated across the room, and their eyes follow him as well. The group looks at him like he is some sort of wild card, and none of them know what he is going to do next. Truthfully, he doesn’t either. He now has one less son, and one more laser sword than he intended at the start of the mission.
Din takes a deep breath, and lets out a long sigh. He supposes he will do as he has always done, and keep moving. By creed or by circumstance there is always a next move, and he believes this one lies lamely in his pocket. The two groups of women in front of him look like a choice, but there are never really choices for the mandalorian. The darksaber decided for him in the same way that the Armorer did. Din stands and takes a deafening step toward the warriors by the window.
“How long until we reach Mandalore?” He asks the pair curtly.
“About a day's journey once we route through hyperspace.” Bo-Katan responds. Din hums in thought.
“What happens when we get there?”
“We must battle for the darksaber. The victor will claim the title of Mand’alor and return our civilization to its former glory.” Bo-Katan stated matter-of-factly, making it sound just that simple.
“I’m not going to fight you, Bo-Katan.” Din sighs. “The darksaber is yours. You deserve to rule.”
“I have not proved deserving of anything. It is a right that needs to be won, and I have obviously not done so.” She spat.
“I didn’t mean to take it, you know that.” He hissed back. Din wasn’t sure when Koska had backed up, but the two armored individuals were almost at each other's throats. Growing more exasperated by the second.
“ Of course you didn’t mean to. And I’m sure your little cult doesn’t mean to undermine our tradition and history by propagating antiquated policy. Why does it not surprise me at all that one of their zealots managed to ‘accidentally’ claim the right to rule Mandalore. ” She fumed.
“ Kriff , Bo-Katan, I just wanted my kid back!” He exclaimed. She scoffed and turned her head, eyeing back at him angrily.
“Oh, yeah, and where is he now ?!”
Din felt his blood boil at her accusations. It was affronting and incredibly insulting. He couldn’t give less of a shit about ruling Mandalore. Those were not his people. His people are his covert, and Grogu. Din glared at Bo-Katan's twisted, angry face through squinted eyes. He was grateful for his helmet, as his composure remained intact. Before the bitter woman could disparage him further, he turned toward the door and stormed out.
The dim, stale corridors of the imperial light cruiser were like a maze. They twisted and turned, each hallway looking the same as the last. The soulless facets of the ship’s interior were littered with the bits of dark troopers cut down by the jedi’s onslaught. Din maneuvers his way around the detritus in his path, carefully stepping over the metal black carcasses. He’s searching for a place to have a moment alone, and hopefully some much needed peace and quiet. Eventually he stumbles upon what seemed to be some kind of recreational room in the center of the ship. It was lined with various vending machines, and housed several sets of tables and chairs. Din made his way over to a long black leather couch, and laid down on his back with a heavy metal thump. He brings his arm up to cover his visor, and lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. It had been such an extremely long day, and he felt more alone than at the start. It felt like some sort of cosmic joke. He had just gotten Grogu back, only for him to slip from his grasp again. Din quietly reminds himself that this is different, and that Grogu is safe. He is where he needs to be, and Din has completed his mission. But the victory feels hollow and tinged with guilt and regret. Emotions he doesn’t really know what to do with, and after Bo-Katan’s beratement, he really just wants to rest. He had never felt like this at the end of a mission before. His work with the guild was always straightforward and unsentimental, and he supposes he was much the same. As consciousness seemed to slip away, Din wondered what changed.
The sky is gray and clouded with smoke and grime. Blasters and thunderous cannons rip through the fog behind him. Din’s vision is in the natural technicolor of naked sight, his shaggy hair hanging in his eyes. With only a red cloak for protection instead of his usual beskar. He is running. Feet trampling through mulch and dirt at a hurried pace, trying his best not to lose his footing. He is clutching a bundle of fabric tightly to his chest with both arms, shielding it from debris. Beads of sweat drip down his face, mixing with tears pricked by acrid smaug. His eyes dart around wildly, looking for a place of respite in the battlefront. White flares flash behind him as a village is pillaged and leveled. Din spots a storage cellar a few yards away, just as heavy metal footsteps encroach upon him. He frees his right hand to grip the rusted latch, burying his cargo deeper into his chest while he rips the doors open. With shaky arms the bundle is lowered into the shallow cellar. Inside the bunch of cloths is a familiar green face. The contradictory wrinkled and infantile face of Grogu, his large eyes wide with fear. Din rubs one of Grogu’s long ears with gentle affection, before withdrawing. He watches his child’s face of horror as he closes the heavy doors over him, turning back to face the crossfire.
Din Djarin wakes in a cold sweat. Clammy from the fitful sleep, and heart pounding in the aftermath of the nightmare. He recognized the vision instantly as his own memory from childhood, albeit he had never seen it from this angle. It was the last time he saw his parents, before the covert found him. In the bleary vulnerability of sleep, he thinks back to those first few months with his mandalorian family. As a child, he knew his parents had given their lives to protect him. But through the mind of a child, he had still felt abandoned and left alone, even if it was all for the best. The dream’s message is evident enough, and he wonders if Grogu feels abandoned as well. Din cannot say he is the boy’s parent, but he had been the closest the child has had to a guardian in a long time. Grogu, who’s life as a jedi was torn apart by the war so long ago. Din wonders how much time the child spent alone, and how many times he was removed from comfort. There is a dull ache in his chest at the thought that he contributed to the child’s misfortune. He did what he had to, right? He had completed the mission the Armorer gave him, and returned the child to his kind. He did not decide that was his quest, but it was decided by creed. Din wonders the last time he made a choice of his own, and decides it was when he first met the child. Something deep inside of him told him to rescue the boy, and keep him safe. He doesn’t regret it for a second. He fought for the toddlers sake, just as his covert had fought for him as a foundling. It wasn’t just creed, it was what was right. He was thankful for the teachings and care of his covert, but thought of his parents. As a child, if he had the choice to stay with his parents, he thinks he would have. Because it is hard to lose things you care about, especially at a young age. And that was when Din made another choice.
Cara Dune found the mandalorian sprawled out on a sofa in one of the common spaces on the light cruiser. He had been missing for several hours, and it is now clear why. The poor man was finally getting some much needed rest, and she almost feels bad interrupting.
“Hey Mando, Fett’s here, so I think Fennec and I are going to head off.” She announces as she approaches the sofa, hoping not to startle him too much. The man’s instincts were sharp, and she was weary of getting a blaster trained on her if she snuck up on him. He sat up quickly though, seemingly already awake. He turned to look over the back of the sofa where she was standing.
“I’m coming with you.” He responds gruffly, rising to his feet with a metallic clang.
“Oh yeah? I don’t think Bo-Katan will be happy about that…” She smirks.
“Yeah, well I’ve got better places to be.”
The two walk out of the room in stride, toward the docking bay. And as Bo-Katan watches Slave 1 disappear from view on the monitor in the bridge, she notices a small cylindrical object left behind on the floor.